Rain Must Fall
by Awahili
Summary: When it rained she remembered. When it rained he tried to forget. Glimpses into a few quiet moments in the lives of Rumplestiltskin and Belle. Takes place in FTL and Storybrooke.
1. Have You Ever Seen the Rain?

So this is my first OUaT fic. I watched the first season one episode at a time until "Skin Deep." Then I watched the rest of it in one go. I simply love the character of Rumplestiltskin and Robert Carlyle is a genius.

This fic is broken into four or five little vignettes. Please review and let me know how I've done.

I don't own them, I'm just borrowing them for a while.

* * *

She stood transfixed at the sight before her, unable to complete her chores the moment it had begun. She hadn't actually watched the rain since she was a little girl, and now that it had started she couldn't seem to stop staring at it. The green meadow that stretched beyond the bounds of the Dark Castle was soaking up the rain that had poured so suddenly from the heavens. The sky was dark with clouds, casting a gloom over the land, but Belle had never seen a more beautiful sight. Tentatively, she reached out a hand and let the cool water bounce off her fingers. She let out a quiet giggle at the sensation, curiosity warring with her upbringing. Finally she shed her hesitation like a cloak and stepped into the downpour.

Her whole body jolted at the sudden chill, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant and she quickly grew accustomed to the steady fall of rain on her skin. Her dress soon became soaked and heavy, but she was so focused on the childish delight that threatened to bubble over that she didn't notice. She stretched out her arms, tilting her head back to let the cold water wash over her face as she spun slowly like a dancer in a ballroom.

"What _are_ you doing, dearie?" She hadn't heard his approach over the rainfall, though she suspected she wouldn't have even if it were deathly quiet. Over the past few weeks, she'd learned a little about her captor-turned-employer, the first being his rather startling ability to just appear when he wanted to. She'd also learned very quickly how to judge his mood by his tone alone, and it seemed today he was feeling just a little mischievious. She'd have to be on her guard.

"I'm spinning in the rain," she told him simply, lowering her head to look at him properly. He was standing just inside the opened door leading from the garden to the back of the kitchens. It was a servant's entrance, not meant to be used by the masters of the house, but Rumpelstiltskin rarely followed the rules.

"I can see that," he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned one shoulder against the jamb, staring at her with a look that was part amusement and part curiosity. Unfortunately for her, she only heard the latter in his question. "Why?"

She had stopped spinning, her arms coming to rest at her side and raindrops ran down in rivulets on her cheeks, giving her the appearance of crying. Her hair had been matted down by the water, soaked and flat against her back. Standing there under his intense scrutiny, Belle felt five years old again. She ducked her head and took quick steps toward the shelter of the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," she forced herself not to stammer under his gaze, "I'll get back to work." She moved past him, but his hand moved swiftly - faster than she could even see - and gripped her arm. It wasn't cruel or hard, as she expected, but rather gentle and firm. She stopped and turned her head a bit, catching him in the corner of her eye.

"No chatisement, just a simple question, dearie," he grinned at her impishly. "Why were you spinning in the rain?" He let her arm go, satisfied now that she wouldn't bolt from his presence. She smoothed her water-logged dress, wincing at the puddle that was forming beneath her.

"When I was a girl, I used to watch the other kids play in the rain. I was never allowed; it's not at all proper for a lady of the court." She worried her lower lip between her teeth for a moment before lifting her chin. "I just figured since I'm not at court any longer, there was no reason not to."

"And was it everything you hoped it would be?" he asked with a flourish of his hands.

She allowed the smallest of smiles to pass her lips as she nodded. "It was wonderful." She felt water shifting in her shoes, and she glanced down. "Excuse me, but I must go change before I catch a fever."

"Oh, I think you've had enough of a break," he answered, rolling his wrist in an intricate movement that left her clothes and hair completely dry. Even the puddle at her feet had vanished, and she couldn't help the gasp of wonder that escaped her. "Back to work, dearie." He walked away without another word, and Belle watched him go. He was an ever-present mystery to her - simultaneously wicked and kind, tempestuous and playful - and she realized with a start that she was beginning to enjoy figuring him out.

_30 years later and a world away..._

Thunder cracked loudly, jostling the girl from her sleep. Lightning illuminated the small stone room for a brief instant, throwing menacing shadows across the figure huddled on the thin cot. Belle clutched the worn blanket around her more tightly, her eyes screwed shut as she tried to block out the images her mind had conjured. She wasn't mad - she knew she wasn't - but she couldn't make sense of the dreams she'd been having since she'd arrived.

It was worse when it rained, she knew. The storm seemed to amplify something inside of her, something that longed to be set free. The patter of rain against her barred window was enough to keep her awake as she mumbled the alphabet in six different languages to keep the images at bay. That life - the one with magic, and castles, and a man who wasn't a man - didn't exist anywhere but in her mind, but to her it felt more real than the physical space around her.

Maybe she was mad, after all.


	2. Shadows in the Rain

Thank you to all who read and reviewed the last chapter. I have at least two more of these ready to go. These are somewhat in chronological order, so the next one will be after the two are reunited but before Belle loses her memory. Please review and let me know how I've done!

* * *

"It's raining again," he pointed out rather unnecessarily one afternoon. Belle had finished her chores for the day, and was currently curled up in an oversized armchair in front of the fire as he spun more straw into gold. Her eyes lifted from the page to his face as she lifted her brow in question. He returned the stare, his hands continuing their task without him. "Wouldn't you like to go spin?" He twirled a free finger in a circle above his head, and she laughed in spite of herself.

"No, thank you," she told him quietly before returning her attention to the book. Truthfully she wasn't really reading it at all, preferring instead to listen to the steady sound of his wheel that had become a sort of comfort to her. Unfortunately, it seemed to have stopped for the moment, and when she looked up he was gone.

"You've been on that page for hours, dearie," his voice from behind her startled her, but she'd long since grown accustomed to his little quirks. She turned her head to peer at him from the corner of her eye.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to read over someone's shoulder?" Time past she wouldn't have dared use that tone against him, but something had been gradually shifting between them over the past few months. She no longer felt like prisoner in his home - though she still wasn't allowed to leave the castle. Instead she'd begun to see the Dark Castle as a second home, and its master as something she'd almost call a friend. She was sure Rumpelstiltskin would cringe and deny any such title, but she often found herself wondering more about this strange monster of a man.

His nimble fingers reached over her and plucked the book from her grasp, eliciting a cry from her. She stood then, ready to face down the beast to get her book back, but he'd shut it up and was looking at her with an odd expression. It was one she'd never seen on his face before, and it brought her indignation up short. He was worried.

"Are you unhappy, Belle?"

The genuine concern in his voice surprised her, but she didn't show it. If she did, she knew he'd make an effort to hide it away from her in the future. Better, she thought, to take it in stride and answer his question honestly.

"No, not unhappy," she told him, "just...restless, I suppose."

"You could always dust the east wing again," he teased her, and she shot him a mirthful glare. She had spent almost an entire weekend clearing out the cobwebs from the east wing, and he'd thought it great fun to go behind her and replace the dirt and grime she'd cleared away. It had been the first time she'd found the nerve to yell at him, and he'd been so stunned that he'd immediately righted his wrong and apologized...in his own way. She'd been moved from the dungeon to the pristine wing that night.

"I suppose," she returned his teasing smile with one of her own. "I just haven't been outside in ages, and I miss it." She didn't say what they both knew; since her arrival she hadn't gone outdoors save for a few small chores that had required it and one brief dance in the rain.

Rumpelstiltskin frowned at the sadness in her tone, and with a snap of his fingers her book disappeared. She didn't protest, knowing it would be waiting at her bedside when she went to lay down that evening, but she did stare at him in wonder. The frown on his face was slowly being replaced by a smile, and she braced herself for another round of her employer's rather unique sense of humor.

"Well, since you are my prisoner," he intoned lightly, "I cannot in good conscience send you out alone. You'd never come back, glad to be away from the monster." She pursed her lips together but didn't dispute him. "I can, however, provide an escort for a walk around the grounds?" It was the smallest of lilts at the end of his sentence, but she heard the question in his tone. She knew he avoided the world, but this was the first time she thought that it might not entirely be his decision. After all, who would willingly consort with the devil, Rumpelstiltskin?

"A walk?" she tilted her head in a way that showed she wasn't disinterested, but hesitant. "It is raining, you know?"

"I won't melt," he sneered, and she laughed. "Though if you prefer, then by all means please continue with your tedious boredom." With a snap of his fingers, her book was back in her hands. He turned to go back to his wheel, and something inside her twinged at the barest flicker of sadness in his eyes. She tossed her book onto the chair and reached out, her fingers closing over the silken shirt that covered his shoulder. It was the first time she'd willingly touched him since that day in the woods. She often thought about that day, and about the feel of him as she'd hugged him. She had expected his skin to be as cold and abrasive as the man himself, but he had surprised her yet again. Underneath her fingers, his skin was as smooth and warm as she remembered as she urged him to turn and face her.

"No, I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, "I just...didn't expect you'd want to walk in the rain. It sounds lovely." He looked at her with an indecipherable expression for a moment before his eyes fell down over her simple dress. He clicked his tongue a few times and began twirling his forefinger in a slow circle. She felt the rush of power wash over her, and when it cleared she was dressed in a thin cloak that looked like he'd wrapped the forest floor around her. She felt her feet settled into a sturdy pair of boots, and he'd even thought to tie her hair back off her shoulders.

"There," he giggled, "all ready!"

Her fingers ghosted over the cloak, her mind racing in wonder at the thin material. If it were a normal cloak she'd doubt its ability to protect her from the elements; given its origin she'd be surprised if the rain even touched her. He turned and danced away, knowing she'd follow him out to the entrance hall. She made sure her hood was up, then slipped her arm through his as he opened the door. She felt him tense at her touch, but the moment they stepped into the rain he relaxed. They walked in silence for a few moments, listening to the sound of the rain hitting the ground, but after a while Belle took a breath and began speaking.

"Will the garden bloom after the rains?"

"I..." he frowned as he trailed off, unsure of the answer. "I suppose. I don't really pay attention." His tone had dropped into what Belle called his "serious" tone. He wasn't the trickster right now, choosing instead to speak to her plainly. "Would you like them to?"

"Oh yes," she breathed, her eyes shifting over to where the garden sat behind the kitchens.

"Any particular reason?"

"It's just...you'll think I'm being silly."

He lifted his free hand and traced an X over his chest with one long finger. "I give you my vow, I shall not think you silly for whatever you wish to tell me."

Belle realized he hadn't specified any further, and she wondered if it was purposeful or merely an oversight. But Rumpelstiltiskin never overlooked anything - and certainly nothing so important as a detail in a vow. She felt a thrill at the trust he was implicitly showing her, and she knew she could offer him nothing less. The rain was coming down a bit harder now, and she huddled further into the cloak he'd conjured as she spoke of something she'd never voiced aloud before.

"My mother had a garden behind our castle, full of roses of every color you could imagine. Red, white, pink, yellow...she had them all. They were her favorite flower, and she'd often go sit among them and read. When I was old enough to understand the importance of not wandering off, I joined her. We'd read to each other among the roses. After she died, there was no one to tend the garden and they withered away." She shifted a little closer to him, overcome momentarily by a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the rain. As she'd thought, her cloak was enchanted to keep her dry and warm. But the memory of her mother long-since dead saddened her.

"You miss her," her companion said simply.

"Yes," she answered, though it was unnecessary. "She died just before I came of age. Still, whenever I see a rose I think of her and her love." She didn't expect any actual condolence from the man beside her, but she felt his arm tighten ever so slightly in response to her story. They fell into a companionable silence as they continued their walk around the grounds, trekking ever farther from the castle. The rain was coming down in sheets now, and a loud crack of thunder made her jump next to him.

"Perhaps it's time to go inside," he offered. Belle looked back behind them and dreaded trudging up the trail that was quickly becoming sloshed with mud.

"Perhaps," she agreed. Before the word had finished from her lips she found herself standing in front of the roaring fire, her companion grinning impishly next to her.

"Back home again," he intoned softly. "May I take your cloak?" He held out his hand gallantly, and she frowned. He dropped his arm and stepped back. "Something the matter?"

"It's just..." she clutched the fabric in her fingers, "it's such a wonder, and so beautifully made. Might I keep it?"

He let out a twittering laugh and gave a short bow. "But of course, milady. I had no intention of keeping it from you. Consider it a gift."

"At what price?" she teased, narrowing her eyes at him even as she smiled. He found himself returning the smile before he could stop himself, and almost instantly his face hardened. He snapped his fingers and she was once again clothed in her simple blue dress.

"Dinner," he answered. "Off to the kitchen, now." He shooed her away with a flick of his fingers, turning his back to her as he returned to his wheel. When he turned around she was gone, off to tend to her duties he supposed, and he found himself missing her presence. He cursed her for distracting him, for causing him to feel something stir within him that he hadn't felt in many years. He briefly entertained thoughts of cruelty to remind her that she was indeed a prisoner here, but they fled just as quickly as they'd come. For the first time since the last vestiges of his humanity had been sucked into a vortex in the ground, he felt the darkness inside of him faltering. Belle had become more than just his prisoner, more than a prize he'd collected as payment for services rendered. She was something he could at least pretend to call his friend, and he could no more cause harm to her as he could give up his power. He wondered if he'd met her before Bae left, if he'd still be a monster.

_Thirty years later..._

Dark eyes watched the rain falling into the neglected garden, its tangled roots and weeds the only remnants of a failed attempt at honoring her memory. Many years ago, and not so long ago at all, he planted the shrubs behind his house in remembrance of a love he'd lost before he'd had it. He'd thought it a grand irony when, in an attempt to get anything to remember her by, he'd had to visit Moe French. He'd barely been able to restrain himself from killing the man in broad daylight, telling himself that it was as much his own fault as it was her father's as he faked a smile and accepted his rose bushes.

But they'd never bloomed, and he left them to wither away without bothering to pull them up. Now, whenever it rained, he found himself sitting at the kitchen table staring through the sliding glass door at the mess of weeds. She'd never gotten to see the garden bloom behind the castle, he thought bitterly. He'd tossed her out before the sunlight came, and the moment the color began to peek through the gloom he'd destroyed the garden in a fit of rage.

But no amount of fire could erase the memory of the way she'd danced in the rain.


	3. Let it Rain

Takes place between Season 2 opener and the events afterward. Just some fluff. Still don't own them.

* * *

The soft patter of raindrops on the roof woke her before the sun had fully risen, and she rolled over in the plush bed in order to watch it fall through the window. She heard the sound of his breathing behind her, the steady rhythm mixing with the rain to lull her into a heady, half-sleep state. The thick blanket tangled in her legs as she dozed off, waking only when she felt a warm arm slip over her waist. The sun was up but it was still raining, and she let out a contented sigh as she felt her body being pulled back against a solid chest.

Sharing space with him came naturally to her - they'd done it for almost a year before they'd been separated in their world. Sharing a bed had happened quite by accident; she realized early during her stay with him that the nightmares didn't dare invade her mind when he was near. After a few sleepless nights and more than one episode in his arms, she finally relented and joined him in his bed. He'd been surprised - pleasantly so, she noted - when, instead of going to her own room after a shower, she walked confidently into his room, hung her robe on his desk chair, and slipped beneath his comforter.

That had been a week ago and, though their town was in an uproar almost daily, she cherished these quiet moments with him. He would have to get up soon to get ready to open the shop, but for now she would keep him with her a moment more, enjoying the sound of the rain.

"Are you happy, Belle?" His voice was rough with sleep, and she felt warmed through as his soft brogue rolled over her.

"I'm not unhappy," she quipped, feeling the soft puff of air across her ear as he laughed with her. She tried to extract herself from his grip and turn in his arms, but he didn't loosen his hold on her. "What's wrong?"

"Something's going to change," he said cryptically. "I don't know what it is yet, but I can feel it." She knew he had been able to foresee the future back in their own world, and now that the magic was here in Storybrooke (thanks to him, she noted wryly), he had regained most of his previous power.

"Whatever it is," she told him as she pressed her hand on top of his own on her stomach, "we'll face it together." He tightened his hold on her, like she would disappear if he let go even a little, and she felt him bury his face into her hair. He wouldn't cry - she wasn't sure he was even capable of it - but she could feel his desperation in the tension of his muscles and his shuddering breaths. Using as much force as she could muster against him, she spun around to face him. His hands gripped her waist as she pressed herself against him, her head falling beneath his chin and her leg slipping under his bad one to support it as they held each other.

The only sound that filled the room for the next half hour was the steady fall of rain and their breathing, hers quiet and his shallow. She felt him growing restless, his old nature reasserting itself a little more every day. She tilted her head and pressed a kiss to his collarbone, feeling his breath hitch beneath her lips. With a grip that was delicate but demanding, he pulled her face up to his and kissed her fiercely, like it was the last time he'd be able to do so. She tried to reassure him, to pour into the kiss her promise to never leave his side. But even though she'd promised forever - once as a prisoner and even more so as a friend and lover - she knew he'd never really believed her. Everyone left him eventually, he'd told her once in a moment of rare honesty in the Dark Castle; he expected nothing less from her. She was determined to prove him wrong.

"Let's stay in today," she mumbled against his lips when he finally pulled away. "I don't care what anyone else is doing. I want to stay in this bed, with you, all day, and listen to the rain."

And though he knew there were a million things that needed to be done, plans to be made, problems to be solved, he found he could deny her nothing. The following day, when they ventured out into the chaos once more, she knew he was beginning to believe in forever.


	4. Still Raining, Still Dreaming

She laid awake in the dim light of the room, listening to the muted voice passing by her door. Nurses came and went, never staying long and never speaking to her more than necessary. Even her visitors had dwindled, though Ruby came by like clockwork every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for lunch. The girl who wasn't Belle (though that name rang true more than the one she remembered being called) lay still as a stone. Voices grew louder as a pair of nurses made their rounds, and she couldn't help but catch little bits of their conversation.

"This rain...soak everything...miserable weekend..."

The voices faded away, but she remained still for another few seconds to be sure. It was raining? She turned her head to look out the window, but the curtains were drawn tight, the flourescent bulbs overhead the only source of light in the small room. Holding her breath, she twisted in the bed and set her bare feet on the cold floor. When no one burst through the door to reprimand her, she pushed herself to her feet and padded over to the window. At first she just peeked through the curtains, but after one look she threw the heavy fabric back. She could see the fingers of rain running toward the sill through the frosted glass, but she couldn't actually see through the window. This particular one faced the central garden, she knew, and she suddenly felt sad that she couldn't see the rainfall on the flowers.

But was disturbed her most was the silence. The sound of rain hitting the window should have filled the room, but she heard nothing but her own shallow breathing. She tried in vain to lift the window to let the rush of rain fill her senses, but it wouldn't budge. She didn't dare try harder, unsure if there was an alarm on her window or not. One final tug proved fruitless, and she laid her hand against the cool pane of glass longingly. She didn't remember much beyond the basics, but she knew she'd loved the rain. It had always reminded her of her mother, though she couldn't remember the woman's face or even her name.

Suddenly, being able to hear the storm became an imperative she couldn't ignore. She pressed her cheek and ear against the glass, hoping to catch even the patter of rain on the pavement, but all she heard was the rush of blood in her ears. Her breath fogged the glass in front of her, shallow and desperate as the need to hear the rain overwhelmed her. She didn't dare cry out for a nurse, or even ask the kind old woman who volunteered on weekends. No one would help her. She was alone.

Not completely, she remembered. Her eyes left the window and fell on the bed. Her phone had been left to her, provided she didn't use it over much, and Ruby brought her charger with her on her visits so Belle could keep it powered up. She'd only had cause to use it twice - once when Ruby failed to show up for lunch a few Fridays ago, and once to receive the most heart-wrenching phone call she'd ever had. She could still remember the depth of emotion in Mr. Gold's voice as he'd told her who she was, as he'd laid his heart at her feet. He'd been dying, he told her, and he wanted her to know who she was before he was gone. She couldn't remember this woman he spoke of with such love and devotion, but suddenly she'd wanted to. She'd tried to remember, even asked Ruby some questions about her old life to no avail, but she just couldn't remember Belle.

He'd recovered, she found out later. No one would tell her exactly what had happened, but then again no one told her much of anything. No one, except for Mr. Gold. He'd always been so open and honest with her, even when she'd pushed him away. If he loved her as he said he did, then he'd surely help her now.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she'd grabbed the phone from beneath her pillow and found his number. Shaky fingers pressed the green button, and it only took two rings for him to answer, as if he'd been sitting by his phone waiting for her call.

"Belle?"

She ignored the immediate protest that sprang to her tongue, pushing it back in favor of her need. "Mr. Gold. I'm sorry...I don't mean to bother you..."

"No bother at all, sweetheart," he said in a tone she somehow knew he only used with her. "What can I do for you? They're treating you well, I hope." His tone had darkened then, and she remembered the confrontation with Mr. Gold and the nurse who had taken to drugging her rather than simply talking to her to calm her moods. As she thought about it, she hadn't seen that nurse since that day, but she couldn't think about that now. Her eyes had returned to the window, and she took a shaky breath as she spoke.

"Yes, they are." She worried the blanket underneath her with her fingers, her voice unsure. "I was wondering...this is strange, I know, and I'm sorry. But...I can't hear the rain in here. I need to hear the rain." She held her breath as his silence answered her, and she knew he was probably staring blankly. What kind of request was that? Hear the rain? He probably thought she was just as crazy as her dreams told her she was.

Finally she heard it, a soft huff of breath that hid a relieved laugh, and then his voice. "Of course, Belle. Of course." White noise crackled over the line as he moved, and she thought she heard the click of a deadbolt unlatching. Had she disturbed him at home? She felt bad for interrupting whatever he'd been doing, but then the soft rush of rainfall came over the line and she forgot her distress. Her eyes watched the rain hit her window as her ears heard it falling miles away. Finally she just closed her eyes and tried to picture the last storm she'd seen. Disjointed flashes from a hundred rainfalls mingled in her mind, no one clearer than another. Even this simple memory seemed to escape her, and she let out a sob.

"Sweetheart are you alright?" His voice broke through her thoughts and she took several breaths to compose herself. If the nurses came in now, they would take her phone and probably give her something to keep her calm despite her friends' protests.

"I'm fine," she managed in an almost steady voice. "It's just...I can't remember the last time...everything's just so fuzzy."

"I know," he sighed, and she could picture the heartbroken expression on his face. He seemed to take her failures as his own, as if he were responsible for what she was going through. She didn't know much about him, but from what the others had told her he was a hard man, cold and unyielding. He certainly had his dark moments, but whenever he'd come to visit her she seen nothing but hope and desperation in his features.

"I'm really sorry to have interrupted your quiet Saturday, Mr. Gold," she began, but he clucked his tongue and cut her off quickly.

"My dear, you can call me anytime - day or night. I am at your disposal, whatever you need. Just ask it of me and I will do everything within my power to make it so." Something about the way he'd said the word "power" made her shiver, her mind flashing back to that dark night in the street when she'd woken in the arms of a stranger. "Belle?"

"Yes, I'm here. Sorry. Thank you for..." she took a breath and looked through the frosted glass of her window one last time. "Thank you."

"You are welcome, Belle." He hung up then, not saying goodbye. But he never did, save that one moment he thought was his last when he'd used the end of his strength to try and remind her of who she really was.

Her resolve hardened to steel in that moment, and she vowed to remember Belle. She owed to Mr. Gold, and to her friends, and to herself most of all. She would remember herself, and her friends, and the love of a man everyone feared.

She would remember the rain.


End file.
